Journeys 10-15-06
Today we celebrate “Children’s Sabbath” at all three worship services. Our United Methodist Women have taken charge of bringing Children’s Sabbath (a program of the Children’s Defense Fund) to Centenary for several years. The goal is to raise awareness of the needs of children. If you Google it you’ll find that they have “A Compact with America's Children,” that:
I. No child shall be hungry in America.
II. No child shall be homeless in America.
III. No child shall lack health care in America.
IV. No child shall be poor in America.
V. No child shall be unsafe in America.
VI. No child shall be illiterate or lack the education and skills needed to work and support a family in America.
VII. No child shall be left alone or in unsafe care when parents work in America.
VIII. No child will be abused, neglected, or exploited for personal or commercial gain in America.
IX. No child will be discriminated against because of race, poverty, gender, sexual orientation, age, or disability in America.
X. Every child will be respected and protected by family, community, state, and nation as a citizen with inalienable rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
Part of the ministry of the UMW is to children. At a recent UMW program by our school Superintendent, Dr. Dale Kruse, the women were considering how they could be mentors to elementary age children in our school system.
At Centenary, we minister to the children of our community by offering Sunday School, Kids Kamp, Vacation Bible School, various day trips offered by our Children’s Council, (we’re going to Rocca Berry Farm today!), Faith Factor Middle School Youth Group, four High School God Parent Groups, (the Crittendon’s, the Woodward’s, the Husa’s & the Clabaugh’s), and, work mission trips for Middle School and High School age youth. We hire a part-time Youth Ministries Director (Mrs. Janine Harvey) to coordinate our youth groups and Kid’s Kamp. We have Kid’s for Christ Children’s Choir, Youth Bells, and two musical productions directed by our Music Director, Dr. Jon Gruett.
The sad thing here in Beatrice, is that with all the programs of the churches and community, there are still kids on the edge, kids who fall through the cracks and are vulnerable to the predators on the underside of our society. Today, we stop to consider what else we can do to show the love of God to the children and youth of our community. If you get a chance, say thanks to our UMW, and Mrs. Patti Crittendon, (this year’s Children’s Sabbath Coordinator), for giving us this opportunity.
Grace & Peace,
Thursday, October 12, 2006
Journeys 10-8-06
Journeys 10-8-06:
I love the fall; the fullness of the trees and the fields before the emptiness of winter. This year we have color in the turning of the leaves; more gold than yellow now, with promises of red to come. The rains have left the corn to dry while huge green and red monsters create moving clouds of dust through the bean fields. The grass is in one last growth spurt before the frost. And Indian Summer wants to happen in-between the rolling storm fronts. Maybe we’ll have a slow Fall instead of a fast one this year.
This fall, I’m proud to have the duties of a Drum Major Dad. Since our oldest, Katie, was chosen to be one of the Drum Majors for the Beatrice High School Band, Cindy and I have inherited certain responsibilities as a Major Dad and Major Mom. Cindy dove right into the lion’s share of tasks in helping organize the band parent’s support efforts. In my limited physical state, I do what I can do right now. And one thing I can do, is hold the ladder.
During the pre-game and half-time band performances, I hold Katie’s ladder while she stands up high to direct. The ladder sways to the rhythm of her waving arms, and I push the legs down and out. I can’t carry the ladder out to the forty yard line, or, bring it back. But I can hang my cane on one of the support beams of that ladder and hold on and add my weight to the base. And that moment when Katie runs over and steps up on that first rung, smiles, and looks me in the eye and says, “Hey Daddy,” makes all the pain and work of rehab and physical therapy worth it. I whisper my standard prayer of thanksgiving, “God is good.” And I thank God for letting me be there for my daughter for this one simple thing.
I am on the field, under the lights, once again. The band plays and goes through their steps as the sun sets to the west and the smell of the grass takes me back to my days of high school football playing and refereeing. My fall is full, once again. “God is good.”
Grace & Peace,
I love the fall; the fullness of the trees and the fields before the emptiness of winter. This year we have color in the turning of the leaves; more gold than yellow now, with promises of red to come. The rains have left the corn to dry while huge green and red monsters create moving clouds of dust through the bean fields. The grass is in one last growth spurt before the frost. And Indian Summer wants to happen in-between the rolling storm fronts. Maybe we’ll have a slow Fall instead of a fast one this year.
This fall, I’m proud to have the duties of a Drum Major Dad. Since our oldest, Katie, was chosen to be one of the Drum Majors for the Beatrice High School Band, Cindy and I have inherited certain responsibilities as a Major Dad and Major Mom. Cindy dove right into the lion’s share of tasks in helping organize the band parent’s support efforts. In my limited physical state, I do what I can do right now. And one thing I can do, is hold the ladder.
During the pre-game and half-time band performances, I hold Katie’s ladder while she stands up high to direct. The ladder sways to the rhythm of her waving arms, and I push the legs down and out. I can’t carry the ladder out to the forty yard line, or, bring it back. But I can hang my cane on one of the support beams of that ladder and hold on and add my weight to the base. And that moment when Katie runs over and steps up on that first rung, smiles, and looks me in the eye and says, “Hey Daddy,” makes all the pain and work of rehab and physical therapy worth it. I whisper my standard prayer of thanksgiving, “God is good.” And I thank God for letting me be there for my daughter for this one simple thing.
I am on the field, under the lights, once again. The band plays and goes through their steps as the sun sets to the west and the smell of the grass takes me back to my days of high school football playing and refereeing. My fall is full, once again. “God is good.”
Grace & Peace,
Journeys 10-1-06
Journeys 10-1-06
Today is World Communion Sunday. Churches all over the world are celebrating the Sacrament of Holy Communion today.
We here at Centenary celebrate the sacrament of Holy Communion on the first Sunday of the month. So this congregation has it 12 times a year plus Christmas Eve. Other denominations (Catholic, Lutheran, Disciple) celebrate Holy Communion every Sunday. These churches take more seriously Jesus’ request that his disciples “do this when ever you gather in my name.”
The story I like to tell confirmation classes is that early Methodist Pastors were used to serving Communion every time worship happened. In the days of western American expansion, pastors preached in circuits of sometimes up to 30 churches. So those churches got communion once every 30 weeks. When the Preacher wasn’t there they had Sunday School and prayer meeting and singing.
When there became enough ordained ministers so that there could be one for every two or three towns, the pastors expected communion to be served every Sunday when the people were used to it every quarter, or twice a year. There was no firm “rule” on the matter, just as long as communion was offered on a “regular basis.” So the people won out. Once something is done twice in the church it is, after all, a tradition. By the time Cindy and I went to seminary (circa 1981-84) most U.M. churches celebrated Communion on a monthly basis.
In the United Methodist Church, our founder John Wesley was adamant that this sacrament be “open” to anyone who came forward. He believed that the ability of God’s grace to work in our lives is not limited by our understanding. God can work on, in and through us whether we understand it or not. So children under the age of “understanding,” mentally handicapped, un-churched, un-baptized, all can receive God’s mysterious saving grace through the sacrament of Communion even if they don’t fully understand how it works. The same goes for the rest of us.
Wesley believed in “Prevenient Grace,” the grace that happens before we respond; before we make a choice and decide for God. He believed God works on our souls to get us to the place of making a conscious decision about our belief in God, then God helps us do something about it with what Wesley called “Justifying and Sanctifying Grace.” The Cliffs Notes version of this is that God is with us, no matter what, no matter where, no matter when.
So as you come forward to receive the sacrament of Holy Communion today, my hope for you is that God’s grace brings you a sense of forgiveness, peace and power; that you feel once again connected to all disciples of Jesus Christ and feel empowered to serve as Jesus served where you live and work and play.
Grace & Peace,
Today is World Communion Sunday. Churches all over the world are celebrating the Sacrament of Holy Communion today.
We here at Centenary celebrate the sacrament of Holy Communion on the first Sunday of the month. So this congregation has it 12 times a year plus Christmas Eve. Other denominations (Catholic, Lutheran, Disciple) celebrate Holy Communion every Sunday. These churches take more seriously Jesus’ request that his disciples “do this when ever you gather in my name.”
The story I like to tell confirmation classes is that early Methodist Pastors were used to serving Communion every time worship happened. In the days of western American expansion, pastors preached in circuits of sometimes up to 30 churches. So those churches got communion once every 30 weeks. When the Preacher wasn’t there they had Sunday School and prayer meeting and singing.
When there became enough ordained ministers so that there could be one for every two or three towns, the pastors expected communion to be served every Sunday when the people were used to it every quarter, or twice a year. There was no firm “rule” on the matter, just as long as communion was offered on a “regular basis.” So the people won out. Once something is done twice in the church it is, after all, a tradition. By the time Cindy and I went to seminary (circa 1981-84) most U.M. churches celebrated Communion on a monthly basis.
In the United Methodist Church, our founder John Wesley was adamant that this sacrament be “open” to anyone who came forward. He believed that the ability of God’s grace to work in our lives is not limited by our understanding. God can work on, in and through us whether we understand it or not. So children under the age of “understanding,” mentally handicapped, un-churched, un-baptized, all can receive God’s mysterious saving grace through the sacrament of Communion even if they don’t fully understand how it works. The same goes for the rest of us.
Wesley believed in “Prevenient Grace,” the grace that happens before we respond; before we make a choice and decide for God. He believed God works on our souls to get us to the place of making a conscious decision about our belief in God, then God helps us do something about it with what Wesley called “Justifying and Sanctifying Grace.” The Cliffs Notes version of this is that God is with us, no matter what, no matter where, no matter when.
So as you come forward to receive the sacrament of Holy Communion today, my hope for you is that God’s grace brings you a sense of forgiveness, peace and power; that you feel once again connected to all disciples of Jesus Christ and feel empowered to serve as Jesus served where you live and work and play.
Grace & Peace,
Journeys 9-24-06
Journeys 9-24-06
Harvest has begun. I saw combines in corn fields on the way to Lincoln this week. I love the sight of a full field turning from green to brown. The edges have been mowed and everything is ready for harvest. For two weeks here the anticipation has been building. Grease guns were working overtime as farmers crawled out the combines and trucks and started getting them ready for the fall push. Implement parts and service people were working overtime to get that old combine up to snuff, one more time.
Sure the choppers get it going. Those dairy farmers get out early and chop that tall green stuff up for feed, leaving the field with a crew cut. But you know the real harvest is not far behind. The farm families I’ve talked to try and describe the urgency that’s been bred into them for several generations. They say, “Unless you’ve lived it, its hard to understand.” You gear up for Harvest in August and September, then all human resources are put toward getting the crop in from late September through November. It’s something you do together. The old timers down at the coffee spots tell me that back in the hand picking days, harvest happened all winter. That it was nothing to be harvesting in the snow. But now, in the mechanized age, it’s about getting that corn or beans or milo in and dried to the best selling condition, ASAP.
Somehow, everybody knows who’s combine gets in the field first. The weight and crop dryness numbers are attached to that piece of ground and it’s owner. Reputations and value as a farmer are at stake. Everybody knows about the inequity of the weather. But you’re still measured by the results of your harvest. As a stranger, getting those final big numbers out of a farmer is like asking your wife of 40 years what she weighs today. It’s just not done. If they want you to know, they’ll tell you. That’s knowledge for family and friends. The people who operate the scales at the grain elevator can tell you what that farmer’s face looks like when he or she feels good about their crop, and when they don’t.
So pray for our farmers this week. Pray that the rain stops now. Pray for the multiple support systems that have to be there for this single focused activity to get completed. Pray for safety, calm, patience, and compassion. Harvest is a time for prayer.
Grace & Peace,
Harvest has begun. I saw combines in corn fields on the way to Lincoln this week. I love the sight of a full field turning from green to brown. The edges have been mowed and everything is ready for harvest. For two weeks here the anticipation has been building. Grease guns were working overtime as farmers crawled out the combines and trucks and started getting them ready for the fall push. Implement parts and service people were working overtime to get that old combine up to snuff, one more time.
Sure the choppers get it going. Those dairy farmers get out early and chop that tall green stuff up for feed, leaving the field with a crew cut. But you know the real harvest is not far behind. The farm families I’ve talked to try and describe the urgency that’s been bred into them for several generations. They say, “Unless you’ve lived it, its hard to understand.” You gear up for Harvest in August and September, then all human resources are put toward getting the crop in from late September through November. It’s something you do together. The old timers down at the coffee spots tell me that back in the hand picking days, harvest happened all winter. That it was nothing to be harvesting in the snow. But now, in the mechanized age, it’s about getting that corn or beans or milo in and dried to the best selling condition, ASAP.
Somehow, everybody knows who’s combine gets in the field first. The weight and crop dryness numbers are attached to that piece of ground and it’s owner. Reputations and value as a farmer are at stake. Everybody knows about the inequity of the weather. But you’re still measured by the results of your harvest. As a stranger, getting those final big numbers out of a farmer is like asking your wife of 40 years what she weighs today. It’s just not done. If they want you to know, they’ll tell you. That’s knowledge for family and friends. The people who operate the scales at the grain elevator can tell you what that farmer’s face looks like when he or she feels good about their crop, and when they don’t.
So pray for our farmers this week. Pray that the rain stops now. Pray for the multiple support systems that have to be there for this single focused activity to get completed. Pray for safety, calm, patience, and compassion. Harvest is a time for prayer.
Grace & Peace,
Friday, September 15, 2006
Journeys 9-17-06
Journeys 9-17-06
Half-way healed. That’s how I feel right now. Yes, I’m making progress. Yes, I’m taking steps to build my atrophied muscles back. But there is the nagging question in my mind, “Will this ever be over? Will I ever actually walk again?”
Since May 10th, I’ve gone from bed to wheelchair to crutches to one crutch to my new one week old cane. As I’d get fast with one apparatus, we’d move to the next one and start all over again.
Physically, it’s about healing bones, ligaments and muscles. Mentally and spiritually, its about trusting that my leg won’t give out on me if I put full weight on it; having the confidence to take a risk. This week for the first time, my physical therapist said, “Go ahead, try taking some steps without touching the parallel bars.” For some reason, those parallel bars make this creaking noise when I lean on them, so even if he was working with another patient, I couldn’t cheat without making some noise.
My Spiritual Director talked with me some this last week about the possibility of being “whole” even though I’m only half-way healed. He said, my soul, my person, is still the same in God’s eyes even if my body is broken and unable to perform. We talked about how, age makes it possible for something to be “wrong” all the time for the rest of my life. Everything doesn’t have to be fixed and in perfect condition for me to be whole.
I told him that going to those first two Husker football games had helped put me back together again inside. Even from the handicapped section, hearing the band play those same old songs, the sound of eighty-some thousand clapping and cheering together, healed something that had come apart inside of me. It was kind of like worship. It was coming home. In worship we sing the same old songs, do the same old things, shake the same hands, see the same people, and whatever has been pulled apart inside of us gets put back together again. We know who we are and who’s we are, and we have confidence to step out that church door and risk giving ourselves away again.
Everything is not, “right.” Everything is not perfect, and may never be perfect again, but through our brokenness we can see the brokenness of others and God nudges us to step forward through the pain offering love and caring.
Now, I think, maybe, my whole life, I’ve been half-way healed, and just didn’t know it.
Grace & Peace,
Half-way healed. That’s how I feel right now. Yes, I’m making progress. Yes, I’m taking steps to build my atrophied muscles back. But there is the nagging question in my mind, “Will this ever be over? Will I ever actually walk again?”
Since May 10th, I’ve gone from bed to wheelchair to crutches to one crutch to my new one week old cane. As I’d get fast with one apparatus, we’d move to the next one and start all over again.
Physically, it’s about healing bones, ligaments and muscles. Mentally and spiritually, its about trusting that my leg won’t give out on me if I put full weight on it; having the confidence to take a risk. This week for the first time, my physical therapist said, “Go ahead, try taking some steps without touching the parallel bars.” For some reason, those parallel bars make this creaking noise when I lean on them, so even if he was working with another patient, I couldn’t cheat without making some noise.
My Spiritual Director talked with me some this last week about the possibility of being “whole” even though I’m only half-way healed. He said, my soul, my person, is still the same in God’s eyes even if my body is broken and unable to perform. We talked about how, age makes it possible for something to be “wrong” all the time for the rest of my life. Everything doesn’t have to be fixed and in perfect condition for me to be whole.
I told him that going to those first two Husker football games had helped put me back together again inside. Even from the handicapped section, hearing the band play those same old songs, the sound of eighty-some thousand clapping and cheering together, healed something that had come apart inside of me. It was kind of like worship. It was coming home. In worship we sing the same old songs, do the same old things, shake the same hands, see the same people, and whatever has been pulled apart inside of us gets put back together again. We know who we are and who’s we are, and we have confidence to step out that church door and risk giving ourselves away again.
Everything is not, “right.” Everything is not perfect, and may never be perfect again, but through our brokenness we can see the brokenness of others and God nudges us to step forward through the pain offering love and caring.
Now, I think, maybe, my whole life, I’ve been half-way healed, and just didn’t know it.
Grace & Peace,
Journeys 9-10-06
On this, “Bring a Friend to Church, Blessing of the Backpacks, Sunday School Kick-off, Third Grade Bibles, All Church Picnic,” Sunday, I thought it would be good to re-introduce you to our Centenary Staff.
Cindy and I are Co-Pastors. We’re starting our fifth year here in Beatrice. We are entering our 22nd year of full time ministry at Elders in the Nebraska Conference. We both received our Master of Divinity degrees at the Divinity School at Duke University in Durham, North Carolina. Cindy received her bachelor’s degree from Wofford College in Spartenburg, South Carolina. I received my degree from Nebraska Wesleyan University in Lincoln.
Today we consecrate two new members of our staff: Mrs. Janine Harvey, Youth Director/Kids Kamp Coordinator, and, Mrs. Cindy Waltke, Treasurer/Secretary. Cindy has been holding down the duties of church secretary most of the summer. We have now hired her as one-quarter church treasurer, three-quarters church secretary. Come take a look at the newly re-arranged office! Cindy has been with us 5-1/3 years.
Mrs. Linda Bierman is our part-time financial secretary overseeing the counting and accounting of our incoming offerings/building funds/special funds/stocks/bonds/commodities, quarters, nickels, dimes and pennies. Linda has been with us 11-1/3 years
Terry Terhune is our part-time T.V. Ministry/Sound System Coordinator. Terry coordinates fundraising for our T.V. Ministry and makes sure volunteers are available to operate the audio and video systems for worship, weddings and funerals. Terry has been on staff 3-1/2 years.
Kathryn Denny is our part-time janitor, cleaning our building mostly in the late evenings and early mornings. Kathryn has been with us 1-1/2 years.
Beth Mais is our part-time Nursery Worker, taking care of our little ones during worship and Sunday School Sundays from 8:45 a.m. to 12:15 p.m.. Beth has been here for 1-1/3 years.
Mrs. Edna Schmidt is our part-time Organist/pianist/summer gracenotes director/summer music coordinator/chancel choir accompaniest. Edna plays the organ in worship at all three worship services all year round. She also sings solos and plays for funerals and weddings and special programs throughout the year. She has been with us 22 years.
Sue Sindlar is our part-time adult handbell director. They meet on Monday nights to practice each week. They present their musical selections with us about once a month. Sue has been with us for 15-1/2 years.
Grace & Peace,
Cindy and I are Co-Pastors. We’re starting our fifth year here in Beatrice. We are entering our 22nd year of full time ministry at Elders in the Nebraska Conference. We both received our Master of Divinity degrees at the Divinity School at Duke University in Durham, North Carolina. Cindy received her bachelor’s degree from Wofford College in Spartenburg, South Carolina. I received my degree from Nebraska Wesleyan University in Lincoln.
Today we consecrate two new members of our staff: Mrs. Janine Harvey, Youth Director/Kids Kamp Coordinator, and, Mrs. Cindy Waltke, Treasurer/Secretary. Cindy has been holding down the duties of church secretary most of the summer. We have now hired her as one-quarter church treasurer, three-quarters church secretary. Come take a look at the newly re-arranged office! Cindy has been with us 5-1/3 years.
Mrs. Linda Bierman is our part-time financial secretary overseeing the counting and accounting of our incoming offerings/building funds/special funds/stocks/bonds/commodities, quarters, nickels, dimes and pennies. Linda has been with us 11-1/3 years
Terry Terhune is our part-time T.V. Ministry/Sound System Coordinator. Terry coordinates fundraising for our T.V. Ministry and makes sure volunteers are available to operate the audio and video systems for worship, weddings and funerals. Terry has been on staff 3-1/2 years.
Kathryn Denny is our part-time janitor, cleaning our building mostly in the late evenings and early mornings. Kathryn has been with us 1-1/2 years.
Beth Mais is our part-time Nursery Worker, taking care of our little ones during worship and Sunday School Sundays from 8:45 a.m. to 12:15 p.m.. Beth has been here for 1-1/3 years.
Mrs. Edna Schmidt is our part-time Organist/pianist/summer gracenotes director/summer music coordinator/chancel choir accompaniest. Edna plays the organ in worship at all three worship services all year round. She also sings solos and plays for funerals and weddings and special programs throughout the year. She has been with us 22 years.
Sue Sindlar is our part-time adult handbell director. They meet on Monday nights to practice each week. They present their musical selections with us about once a month. Sue has been with us for 15-1/2 years.
Grace & Peace,
Journeys 9-3-06
Journeys 9-3-06:
According to Wikipedia.com:
"The origins of the American Labor Day can be traced back to the Knights of
Labor in the United States and a parade organized by them on September 5,
1882 in New York City. They were inspired by an annual labor parade held in
Toronto, Canada. In 1884 another parade was held, and the Knights passed
resolutions to make this an annual event.
Labor Day has been celebrated on the first Monday in September in the United
States since the 1880s. The September date has remained unchanged, even
though the government was encouraged to adopt May 1 as Labor Day, the date
celebrated by the majority of the world. Moving the holiday, in addition to
breaking with tradition, could have been viewed as aligning the U.S. labor
movements with internationalist sympathies.
Labor Day is generally regarded simply as a day of rest and, unlike May Day,
political demonstrations are rare. Forms of celebration include picnics,
barbecues, fireworks displays, water activities, and public art events.
Families with school-age children take it as the last chance to travel
before the end of summer. Some teenagers and young adults view it as the
last weekend for parties before returning to school.
One of the largest modern traditions of Labor Day in the United States is
the annual telethon of the Muscular Dystrophy Association, hosted by Jerry
Lewis to fund research and patient support programs for the various diseases
grouped as muscular dystrophy. The telethon raises tens of millions of
dollars each year. In 2005, despite the recent catastrophe caused by
Hurricane Katrina, nearly $55 million was raised over 21 hours."
In the Karges family, for years, Labor Day meant getting together in Albion
for my grandma's birthday. It started on her 90th and continued a decade
until her death a couple years ago. We'd get together at the City Park or
at the Wolf Home's "Hospitality Room," and eat and cluster in generations
around the room to talk. The third and fourth generations would run around
getting to know each other. For me it brought back memories of growing up
years and Sunday dinners at Grandma's house; the adults in the dining room,
the "kid table" in the kitchen. You had to be married to sit with the
adults. After dinner, the adults would sit around and talk while we kids
would go outside for football or baseball and play until somebody got hurt.
This year, Labor Day means the first Husker home football game in
conjunction with the State Fair and a day of rest on Monday. It is a
Sabbath day of rest before the fall schedule takes off in full stride. May
God grant you rest as we transition to the next season, (starting NOW!).
Grace & Peace,
According to Wikipedia.com:
"The origins of the American Labor Day can be traced back to the Knights of
Labor in the United States and a parade organized by them on September 5,
1882 in New York City. They were inspired by an annual labor parade held in
Toronto, Canada. In 1884 another parade was held, and the Knights passed
resolutions to make this an annual event.
Labor Day has been celebrated on the first Monday in September in the United
States since the 1880s. The September date has remained unchanged, even
though the government was encouraged to adopt May 1 as Labor Day, the date
celebrated by the majority of the world. Moving the holiday, in addition to
breaking with tradition, could have been viewed as aligning the U.S. labor
movements with internationalist sympathies.
Labor Day is generally regarded simply as a day of rest and, unlike May Day,
political demonstrations are rare. Forms of celebration include picnics,
barbecues, fireworks displays, water activities, and public art events.
Families with school-age children take it as the last chance to travel
before the end of summer. Some teenagers and young adults view it as the
last weekend for parties before returning to school.
One of the largest modern traditions of Labor Day in the United States is
the annual telethon of the Muscular Dystrophy Association, hosted by Jerry
Lewis to fund research and patient support programs for the various diseases
grouped as muscular dystrophy. The telethon raises tens of millions of
dollars each year. In 2005, despite the recent catastrophe caused by
Hurricane Katrina, nearly $55 million was raised over 21 hours."
In the Karges family, for years, Labor Day meant getting together in Albion
for my grandma's birthday. It started on her 90th and continued a decade
until her death a couple years ago. We'd get together at the City Park or
at the Wolf Home's "Hospitality Room," and eat and cluster in generations
around the room to talk. The third and fourth generations would run around
getting to know each other. For me it brought back memories of growing up
years and Sunday dinners at Grandma's house; the adults in the dining room,
the "kid table" in the kitchen. You had to be married to sit with the
adults. After dinner, the adults would sit around and talk while we kids
would go outside for football or baseball and play until somebody got hurt.
This year, Labor Day means the first Husker home football game in
conjunction with the State Fair and a day of rest on Monday. It is a
Sabbath day of rest before the fall schedule takes off in full stride. May
God grant you rest as we transition to the next season, (starting NOW!).
Grace & Peace,
Friday, August 25, 2006
Journeys 8-27-06
Journeys
8-27-06:
Today we begin introducing our new part-time Youth Director/Kids Kamp Coordinator, Mrs. Janine Harvey.
Janine and her husband Michael moved to Beatrice this past year for Mike’s job in administration at the Beatrice Community Hospital. Janine has three children; a son, Micah, who is two, and two daughters, Janelle - 16 and Jacyln - 15, who are finishing up their High School years in Kansas.
Our Staff Parish Relations Committee was especially impressed with her past experience in church work as a Christian Education Director and Church Program Director in United Methodist Churches in Bonner Springs and Shawnee Mission Kansas.
After the interview and approval process, Janine began her work with us last week. She has hit the ground running, meeting with Gail Butler and past Kids Kamp parents, and meeting with Cindy and me to discuss Middle School and High School Work Mission options for this coming year.
Mrs. Harvey will be providing the programming and coordinating volunteers for the Middle School Youth Program, “Faith Factor,” and coordinating work missions for the Middle School and High School and the fund raisers for those trips. She will also be providing over-all administration the volunteers for Kids Kamp. The Middle School and High School Youth and Parents are invited to meet Janine at a Wed., Sept. 6th gathering to talk about this coming year’s program. We will consecrate her on Sunday, Sept. 10th at the 9:00 o’clock and 11 o’clock worship services.
We are extremely excited to have Janine sharing her gifts with our church. Please take the opportunity to introduce ourselves as we start acclimating Mrs. Harvey to our congregation.
Grace & Peace,
8-27-06:
Today we begin introducing our new part-time Youth Director/Kids Kamp Coordinator, Mrs. Janine Harvey.
Janine and her husband Michael moved to Beatrice this past year for Mike’s job in administration at the Beatrice Community Hospital. Janine has three children; a son, Micah, who is two, and two daughters, Janelle - 16 and Jacyln - 15, who are finishing up their High School years in Kansas.
Our Staff Parish Relations Committee was especially impressed with her past experience in church work as a Christian Education Director and Church Program Director in United Methodist Churches in Bonner Springs and Shawnee Mission Kansas.
After the interview and approval process, Janine began her work with us last week. She has hit the ground running, meeting with Gail Butler and past Kids Kamp parents, and meeting with Cindy and me to discuss Middle School and High School Work Mission options for this coming year.
Mrs. Harvey will be providing the programming and coordinating volunteers for the Middle School Youth Program, “Faith Factor,” and coordinating work missions for the Middle School and High School and the fund raisers for those trips. She will also be providing over-all administration the volunteers for Kids Kamp. The Middle School and High School Youth and Parents are invited to meet Janine at a Wed., Sept. 6th gathering to talk about this coming year’s program. We will consecrate her on Sunday, Sept. 10th at the 9:00 o’clock and 11 o’clock worship services.
We are extremely excited to have Janine sharing her gifts with our church. Please take the opportunity to introduce ourselves as we start acclimating Mrs. Harvey to our congregation.
Grace & Peace,
Journeys 8-20-06
Back to School
We’ve handed our children back. They are no longer just ours. Now, the biggest part of their days, they belong to Mrs. Woodward, and Mr. Sutter. Their Beatrice Public School keepers communicate with us via copied colored paper with messages about school lunches, parking passes and eye exams. Its time to clear a spot on the refrigerator for this year’s magnet messages.
The deregulation of their summer sleep patterns has come to a halt. We tried to begin bending their bedtimes back to reality these past two weeks. They fought it all the way. Now, just being tired from the day at school will finally force their heads down on their pillows at a decent time once again. Starting Monday, the high-schoolers will report to band practice at 7:30 a.m. each day. Our grade-schooler can walk out our door at 8:15 a.m. and be at the fifth grade door by 8:20 a.m. no problem. Everyone gets done with school at 3:30 p.m.
Fortunately, they break us in gradually. The full force of the fall schedule builds for a while here. Dance doesn’t start for a couple weeks. Wednesday night church stuff (Kids Kamp, Youth Bells, Godparent Groups) doesn’t begin ‘til after Labor Day.
This year the Karges family has the additional pressure of having a Senior in the house. All the “lasts” have begun with the “last first day of school.” We’re already grieving her leaving and she’s still here for at least 11 months.
School forces us to fold our lives into its calendar. There is an additional layer of structure to bump up against.
Now is the time to get involved with that Bible study your friends have been bugging you about. Singing in the choir, or playing in the Gracenotes band might be just how God wants you to share your gifts this year. Do my Sunday School class in the fellowship hall that discusses the scripture for that day in worship, or dive into the Sunday Night DVD discussion group. Now may be the time to deepen your faith. Pray about it – then take the plunge. School isn’t the only institution to fold your life into this fall. Bump up against the church calendar and see where you fit in.
Grace & Peace,
We’ve handed our children back. They are no longer just ours. Now, the biggest part of their days, they belong to Mrs. Woodward, and Mr. Sutter. Their Beatrice Public School keepers communicate with us via copied colored paper with messages about school lunches, parking passes and eye exams. Its time to clear a spot on the refrigerator for this year’s magnet messages.
The deregulation of their summer sleep patterns has come to a halt. We tried to begin bending their bedtimes back to reality these past two weeks. They fought it all the way. Now, just being tired from the day at school will finally force their heads down on their pillows at a decent time once again. Starting Monday, the high-schoolers will report to band practice at 7:30 a.m. each day. Our grade-schooler can walk out our door at 8:15 a.m. and be at the fifth grade door by 8:20 a.m. no problem. Everyone gets done with school at 3:30 p.m.
Fortunately, they break us in gradually. The full force of the fall schedule builds for a while here. Dance doesn’t start for a couple weeks. Wednesday night church stuff (Kids Kamp, Youth Bells, Godparent Groups) doesn’t begin ‘til after Labor Day.
This year the Karges family has the additional pressure of having a Senior in the house. All the “lasts” have begun with the “last first day of school.” We’re already grieving her leaving and she’s still here for at least 11 months.
School forces us to fold our lives into its calendar. There is an additional layer of structure to bump up against.
Now is the time to get involved with that Bible study your friends have been bugging you about. Singing in the choir, or playing in the Gracenotes band might be just how God wants you to share your gifts this year. Do my Sunday School class in the fellowship hall that discusses the scripture for that day in worship, or dive into the Sunday Night DVD discussion group. Now may be the time to deepen your faith. Pray about it – then take the plunge. School isn’t the only institution to fold your life into this fall. Bump up against the church calendar and see where you fit in.
Grace & Peace,
Friday, August 11, 2006
Journeys 8-13-06
Journeys 8-13-06
As a kid, I loved shopping for school supplies. It may explain why my favorite stores are now Office Max and Office Depot. Of course my 17 year old confirms my history when she looks at the matching hip holsters for my Palm Pilot and cell phone and says, “Daddy, you are such a nerd!” And I say, “Yea, I know, always have been. Wait ‘til you see the new belt clip I got for my IPod!”
I got my first brief case when I was 12. In Jr. High, I was biking to school with an old green army back-pack before backpacks were “in.” Of course, my bike had the matching wire baskets on back. I didn’t want to get home and need a book I didn’t have. It has always been important to have what I need on my person at all times.
Now, my kids get their list from the school. We check off the items one by one. Items not on the list have to be negotiated. Its better that Cindy does the school shopping. I’m more inclined to say, “You sure that back-pack’s big enough? How about this one?” Emily will say, “But Daddy, that doesn’t match.” And I say, “What do you mean? Match what?”
On Sunday, Sept. 10th (the Sunday after Labor Day) we will have the annual “Blessing of the Backpacks.” You are invited to bring your backpacks and briefcases up to the altar as we bless them for this coming school year. In doing so, we’ll recognize that God is a part of all our lives. In asking God’s blessings on the tools of our lives, we invite God into our work, our productivity.
If anybody needs me to go along to Walmart or Office Max to school shop, just let me know.
Grace & Peace,
As a kid, I loved shopping for school supplies. It may explain why my favorite stores are now Office Max and Office Depot. Of course my 17 year old confirms my history when she looks at the matching hip holsters for my Palm Pilot and cell phone and says, “Daddy, you are such a nerd!” And I say, “Yea, I know, always have been. Wait ‘til you see the new belt clip I got for my IPod!”
I got my first brief case when I was 12. In Jr. High, I was biking to school with an old green army back-pack before backpacks were “in.” Of course, my bike had the matching wire baskets on back. I didn’t want to get home and need a book I didn’t have. It has always been important to have what I need on my person at all times.
Now, my kids get their list from the school. We check off the items one by one. Items not on the list have to be negotiated. Its better that Cindy does the school shopping. I’m more inclined to say, “You sure that back-pack’s big enough? How about this one?” Emily will say, “But Daddy, that doesn’t match.” And I say, “What do you mean? Match what?”
On Sunday, Sept. 10th (the Sunday after Labor Day) we will have the annual “Blessing of the Backpacks.” You are invited to bring your backpacks and briefcases up to the altar as we bless them for this coming school year. In doing so, we’ll recognize that God is a part of all our lives. In asking God’s blessings on the tools of our lives, we invite God into our work, our productivity.
If anybody needs me to go along to Walmart or Office Max to school shop, just let me know.
Grace & Peace,
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Journeys 8-6-06
I was doing O.K. on this death thing until I did a funeral this last week. It was nothing earth shattering; an 87 year old man who’d lived in a nursing home his last few years. He was a relative of a church member. I’ve done hundreds of funerals. At one time I figured I’d done at least 20 a year for my 22 years of full time ministry. I have no fear about life after death. I trust God’s influence to extend way beyond what’s here on earth.
It’s more personal than that. Seeing those pictures of the U-Haul truck I was driving on May 10th, with the area where I was sitting crushed like a coke can, makes me consider death as a current personal reality. Up until now it’s been about responding to other people’s deaths; my grandparents, my aunt, my uncles, my cousin, my child, my parishoners. Just coping with the grief has at times been overwhelming. Living without them, living with loss, living with this hole in my soul I know as grief. It’s been about how to keep my head above water as I swim through the dark waters of grief.
This is not about my grief. It’s about beginnings and endings. This is about being 47 years old before I have to really think about my own end. Up to now, I’ve been living my life as if it would never end. Since May 10th, I’m thinking about living my life backwards.
How about knowing, with every part of my heart and mind that my life on earth will not go on forever, and going backwards from there? It might make me less likely to just skate through life, just trying to dodge the bumps and holes along the way. It might make me more likely to make each day count.
So today, do my children know I love them? Do they know I think they’re beautiful and smart and great to be around? Does my wife know I adore her and love to see her smile? Do my parents know how much I appreciate them? Do my brothers know how much they mean to me? Do my friends know what a blessing they are to me?
See, at that funeral, more than ever before, I wanted them to know this thing about death; I wanted them to know, that you just never know. Your last conscious moment could be a call on your cell phone as you drive onto an interstate highway in the rain. You just never know.
What I do know now, is that there is an end.
“God, help me be who you made me to be in the time I have left on this earth.”
Grace & Peace,
It’s more personal than that. Seeing those pictures of the U-Haul truck I was driving on May 10th, with the area where I was sitting crushed like a coke can, makes me consider death as a current personal reality. Up until now it’s been about responding to other people’s deaths; my grandparents, my aunt, my uncles, my cousin, my child, my parishoners. Just coping with the grief has at times been overwhelming. Living without them, living with loss, living with this hole in my soul I know as grief. It’s been about how to keep my head above water as I swim through the dark waters of grief.
This is not about my grief. It’s about beginnings and endings. This is about being 47 years old before I have to really think about my own end. Up to now, I’ve been living my life as if it would never end. Since May 10th, I’m thinking about living my life backwards.
How about knowing, with every part of my heart and mind that my life on earth will not go on forever, and going backwards from there? It might make me less likely to just skate through life, just trying to dodge the bumps and holes along the way. It might make me more likely to make each day count.
So today, do my children know I love them? Do they know I think they’re beautiful and smart and great to be around? Does my wife know I adore her and love to see her smile? Do my parents know how much I appreciate them? Do my brothers know how much they mean to me? Do my friends know what a blessing they are to me?
See, at that funeral, more than ever before, I wanted them to know this thing about death; I wanted them to know, that you just never know. Your last conscious moment could be a call on your cell phone as you drive onto an interstate highway in the rain. You just never know.
What I do know now, is that there is an end.
“God, help me be who you made me to be in the time I have left on this earth.”
Grace & Peace,
Saturday, July 29, 2006
RevKelly Pastor's Pen, Beatrice Daily Sun Newspaper Article, 7-27-06
Pastor’s Pen, Beatrice Daily Sun- submitted Mon., July 24, 2006
On May 10th my wife and I were in an eight car pile-up in a rain storm in the mountains of Tennessee. We were moving my wife’s mother from South Carolina to Homestead House here in Beatrice. I was driving a 17 foot U-Haul truck. My wife and her Mama were in our mini-van. I have no memory of the accident. Because of a concussion, I lost about 24 hours surrounding the crash. Cindy was able to come to a stop just in time to see me smash into the back of a semi-truck changing lanes next to her.
I was life-flighted to the University if Tennessee Medical Center in Knoxville where they put titanium plates in my pelvis and left hip. My left knee sustained some ligament damage. After looking at pictures of the truck after the crash I firmly believe my seat belt (and I’m not known for wearing seat-belts) and air-bags saved my life. I call those my “Lucky to be alive,” pictures.
I spent a week at the University of Tennessee Medical Center before being flown to Beatrice by Brian Husa, our Staff Parish Relations Committee Chair. One day after arriving at the Beatrice Hospital, God spoke through the nurse who leaned down and said, “Honey, you’re gonna’ have to learn how to ask for help when you need it.”
If I’ve learned nothing else from this broken hip and broken pelvis, its that I’ve overlooked the value of dependence for most of my life. Now, I have no choice. I am dependent on others for almost everything (and I mean EVERYTHING).
And, since I can’t help but wonder what God has to do with all of this, I wonder if part of what Jesus was trying to teach us, was about how we need to depend on each other; how, being a part of a community is how we get closer to God; how, depending on each other is a rather Christian thing to do. Maybe independence is not all its cracked up to be. Maybe dependence on God is what is most important. Maybe dependence on each other is what follows. I don’t know. But my near death car crash experience and subsequent recovery time has forced me to reconsider such things.
Now, I’m waiting for mid-August when I can begin putting full weight on my left leg. But I still get to do physical therapy three times a week. Right now, healing is measured in numbers. It’s a matter of degrees. My physical therapist, Jason, works my left knee that’s recovering from a torn PCL and small tears on several lateral ligaments. At the end of each session we get out the sliding board, and the big clear plastic angle measurer, and start the bending. I started at 91 degrees. By the end of the first week I’d progressed to 97. Then, I got to 107. Two degrees progress can make me very happy right now. One degree is not good enough. Stay the same or decrease and I’m crushed (not a good concept for me right now). The ultimate goal is to bend the left knee to 120 degrees.
Healing is a weird thing. It’s a mental, physical and spiritual thing. In the end I know I want to walk; no limp, no leaning, a regular 46 year old 200 pound male stride. But a return to my gait won’t heal the mental and spiritual disruption.
After looking at post-crash pictures of the truck I was driving, I know I’m lucky to have the possibility of walking again. Seeing the x-rays of the metal plates and spikes in my pelvis and hip reinforced just how damaged my insides were. That cured me of any thoughts of putting weight on that hip before the doctor told me it was O.K..
If chasing 50 hadn’t done it enough for me, this accident has slapped me awake to the realization that I am not going to live forever. There are limits to how much time I have left here. There is no reason to avoid my life’s to-do list any more. My soul is having to digest the idea that I might not get everything done that I want to get done before I’m done here. If that air-bag had not gone off, I’m not sure I’d be satisfied with the life of Kelly Jay Karges to this point in time. Maybe my check list needs to be revised, shifted a few degrees. Maybe I need to erase the “Whats” and “How much-es,” of that list and replace them with “Whos” and “Whens.”
I think the mental and spiritual healing takes a little longer. How do you measure the holes in your soul? When do you know you have closure? Is being satisfied really all that big of deal? Is the end accounting any more important than the middle? I don’t know. I think it’s a matter of degrees.
Our congregation has been wonderful through all this. I thank God for all those who fed my family for a month after we got home; for the nurses in our church & Dr. Butler who came into my home and gave me a shot in my stomach for a month after I got out of the hospital; for all the creative ways our members reached out to us and let us know we are loved. I didn’t know there were so many different kinds of Get Well cards! One young mother told me that she had prayed for me in my prayer spot in the sanctuary (north side, three rows from the front, in front of the second pillar), sensing my presence, keeping my spot warm for me ‘til I could get back. Our colleagues in the Beatrice Ministerial Association visited me in the hospital and let me know we were in the prayers of all their congregations. Dr. Gloor and Dr. Butler were there for Cindy who called from Tennessee needing re-assurance and answers to her questions. Our church Trustees made a ramp magically appear in front of our house, so I could get in with my wheel chair. Our church staff stepped up and took over while we were gone, keeping the church going in our absence.
There is not enough room in this paper to thank all those that need to be thanked. I have learned through all of this that my healing is a group project, a community project. My life will never be the same. Who I am and will be is because of all those who reached out to help in my hour of need. For that I thank God. I only hope I can do the same.
Grace & Peace, Rev. Kelly Karges, Co-Pastor, Centenary United Methodist Church
On May 10th my wife and I were in an eight car pile-up in a rain storm in the mountains of Tennessee. We were moving my wife’s mother from South Carolina to Homestead House here in Beatrice. I was driving a 17 foot U-Haul truck. My wife and her Mama were in our mini-van. I have no memory of the accident. Because of a concussion, I lost about 24 hours surrounding the crash. Cindy was able to come to a stop just in time to see me smash into the back of a semi-truck changing lanes next to her.
I was life-flighted to the University if Tennessee Medical Center in Knoxville where they put titanium plates in my pelvis and left hip. My left knee sustained some ligament damage. After looking at pictures of the truck after the crash I firmly believe my seat belt (and I’m not known for wearing seat-belts) and air-bags saved my life. I call those my “Lucky to be alive,” pictures.
I spent a week at the University of Tennessee Medical Center before being flown to Beatrice by Brian Husa, our Staff Parish Relations Committee Chair. One day after arriving at the Beatrice Hospital, God spoke through the nurse who leaned down and said, “Honey, you’re gonna’ have to learn how to ask for help when you need it.”
If I’ve learned nothing else from this broken hip and broken pelvis, its that I’ve overlooked the value of dependence for most of my life. Now, I have no choice. I am dependent on others for almost everything (and I mean EVERYTHING).
And, since I can’t help but wonder what God has to do with all of this, I wonder if part of what Jesus was trying to teach us, was about how we need to depend on each other; how, being a part of a community is how we get closer to God; how, depending on each other is a rather Christian thing to do. Maybe independence is not all its cracked up to be. Maybe dependence on God is what is most important. Maybe dependence on each other is what follows. I don’t know. But my near death car crash experience and subsequent recovery time has forced me to reconsider such things.
Now, I’m waiting for mid-August when I can begin putting full weight on my left leg. But I still get to do physical therapy three times a week. Right now, healing is measured in numbers. It’s a matter of degrees. My physical therapist, Jason, works my left knee that’s recovering from a torn PCL and small tears on several lateral ligaments. At the end of each session we get out the sliding board, and the big clear plastic angle measurer, and start the bending. I started at 91 degrees. By the end of the first week I’d progressed to 97. Then, I got to 107. Two degrees progress can make me very happy right now. One degree is not good enough. Stay the same or decrease and I’m crushed (not a good concept for me right now). The ultimate goal is to bend the left knee to 120 degrees.
Healing is a weird thing. It’s a mental, physical and spiritual thing. In the end I know I want to walk; no limp, no leaning, a regular 46 year old 200 pound male stride. But a return to my gait won’t heal the mental and spiritual disruption.
After looking at post-crash pictures of the truck I was driving, I know I’m lucky to have the possibility of walking again. Seeing the x-rays of the metal plates and spikes in my pelvis and hip reinforced just how damaged my insides were. That cured me of any thoughts of putting weight on that hip before the doctor told me it was O.K..
If chasing 50 hadn’t done it enough for me, this accident has slapped me awake to the realization that I am not going to live forever. There are limits to how much time I have left here. There is no reason to avoid my life’s to-do list any more. My soul is having to digest the idea that I might not get everything done that I want to get done before I’m done here. If that air-bag had not gone off, I’m not sure I’d be satisfied with the life of Kelly Jay Karges to this point in time. Maybe my check list needs to be revised, shifted a few degrees. Maybe I need to erase the “Whats” and “How much-es,” of that list and replace them with “Whos” and “Whens.”
I think the mental and spiritual healing takes a little longer. How do you measure the holes in your soul? When do you know you have closure? Is being satisfied really all that big of deal? Is the end accounting any more important than the middle? I don’t know. I think it’s a matter of degrees.
Our congregation has been wonderful through all this. I thank God for all those who fed my family for a month after we got home; for the nurses in our church & Dr. Butler who came into my home and gave me a shot in my stomach for a month after I got out of the hospital; for all the creative ways our members reached out to us and let us know we are loved. I didn’t know there were so many different kinds of Get Well cards! One young mother told me that she had prayed for me in my prayer spot in the sanctuary (north side, three rows from the front, in front of the second pillar), sensing my presence, keeping my spot warm for me ‘til I could get back. Our colleagues in the Beatrice Ministerial Association visited me in the hospital and let me know we were in the prayers of all their congregations. Dr. Gloor and Dr. Butler were there for Cindy who called from Tennessee needing re-assurance and answers to her questions. Our church Trustees made a ramp magically appear in front of our house, so I could get in with my wheel chair. Our church staff stepped up and took over while we were gone, keeping the church going in our absence.
There is not enough room in this paper to thank all those that need to be thanked. I have learned through all of this that my healing is a group project, a community project. My life will never be the same. Who I am and will be is because of all those who reached out to help in my hour of need. For that I thank God. I only hope I can do the same.
Grace & Peace, Rev. Kelly Karges, Co-Pastor, Centenary United Methodist Church
Thursday, July 27, 2006
RevKelly Journeys 7-30-06
Journeys 7-30-06:
As of this writing (Thursday, July 27), there are 21 days until school starts in the Beatrice Public School System. Ten days until Band Camp. Four days until Limited, (High School Swing Choir) choreography camp. According to Huskerpedia.com, there are 37 days, 3 hours, 57 minutes, 56 seconds until the kick-off for the first Nebraska Cornhusker Football game.
These are the most vacationed two weeks of the year. For families with kids, this is it. If you’re going to get gone, its now or fall break. Last week’s Gospel lesson told of Jesus’ training up his disciples. He sent them out two by two. When they came back all excited to tell the news of their experiences of healing and ministry Jesus herded them off to, “a quiet, deserted place” to be alone and recoup. The sermon message was to follow Jesus’ example and pace of ministry and retreat, service and prayer. No one goes at it all the time, not even Jesus. Weekly worship is a kind of retreat to refill our cup before heading back out that door for another 7 days of ministry; following Jesus in our homes and jobs. Daily prayer and meditation at the beginning or ending of the day is a micro-retreat to frame your day and reflect on God’s part in it.
The family vacation is a way to disengage from the normal routine and re-invest in each other. With cell phones, text messaging, and wireless internet, its becoming harder and harder to unplug. But there’s something about just getting out of town that drops the diaphragm, lowers the bodies’ barometric pressure and lets a big sigh of relief out of your mouth the instant you pass out of the city limits. When on vacation, you have to sit around the same table to eat that fast food. You have to talk to each other even if its, “Pass the ketchup.” You’re following Jesus’ pace and pattern; ministry and retreat, service and prayer.
May God grant each of us some kind of retreat before the fall schedule attacks and consumes our calendars.
Grace & Peace,
As of this writing (Thursday, July 27), there are 21 days until school starts in the Beatrice Public School System. Ten days until Band Camp. Four days until Limited, (High School Swing Choir) choreography camp. According to Huskerpedia.com, there are 37 days, 3 hours, 57 minutes, 56 seconds until the kick-off for the first Nebraska Cornhusker Football game.
These are the most vacationed two weeks of the year. For families with kids, this is it. If you’re going to get gone, its now or fall break. Last week’s Gospel lesson told of Jesus’ training up his disciples. He sent them out two by two. When they came back all excited to tell the news of their experiences of healing and ministry Jesus herded them off to, “a quiet, deserted place” to be alone and recoup. The sermon message was to follow Jesus’ example and pace of ministry and retreat, service and prayer. No one goes at it all the time, not even Jesus. Weekly worship is a kind of retreat to refill our cup before heading back out that door for another 7 days of ministry; following Jesus in our homes and jobs. Daily prayer and meditation at the beginning or ending of the day is a micro-retreat to frame your day and reflect on God’s part in it.
The family vacation is a way to disengage from the normal routine and re-invest in each other. With cell phones, text messaging, and wireless internet, its becoming harder and harder to unplug. But there’s something about just getting out of town that drops the diaphragm, lowers the bodies’ barometric pressure and lets a big sigh of relief out of your mouth the instant you pass out of the city limits. When on vacation, you have to sit around the same table to eat that fast food. You have to talk to each other even if its, “Pass the ketchup.” You’re following Jesus’ pace and pattern; ministry and retreat, service and prayer.
May God grant each of us some kind of retreat before the fall schedule attacks and consumes our calendars.
Grace & Peace,
Sunday, July 23, 2006
RevKelly Journeys 7-16-06
A matter of degrees.
I can’t put any weight on my left leg until mid-August. But I still get to do physical therapy three days a week. Right now, healing is measured in numbers. It’s a matter of degrees. My physical therapist, Jason, works my left knee that’s recovering from a torn PCL and small tears on several lateral ligaments. At the end of each session we get out the sliding board, and the big clear plastic angle measurer, and start the bending. I started at 91 degrees. By the end of the week I’d progressed to 97. Today, I got to 103. Two degrees can make me very happy right now. One degree is not good enough. Stay the same or decrease and I’m crushed (not a good concept for me right now). The ultimate goal is to bend the left knee to 120 degrees.
Healing is a weird thing. It’s a mental, physical and spiritual thing. In the end I know I want to walk; no limp, no leaning, a regular 46 year old 200 pound male stride. But a return to my gait won’t heal the mental and spiritual disruption.
After looking at post-crash pictures of the truck I was driving, I know I’m lucky to have the possibility of walking again. Seeing the x-rays of the metal plates and spikes in my pelvis and hip reinforced just how damaged my insides were. That cured me of any thoughts of putting weight on that hip before the doctor told me it was O.K..
If chasing 50 hadn’t done it enough for me, this accident has slapped me awake to the realization that I am not going to live forever. There are limits to how much time I have left here. There is no reason to avoid my life’s to-do list any more. My soul is having to digest the idea that I might not get everything done that I want to get done before I’m done here. If that air-bag had not gone off, I’m not sure I’d be satisfied with the life of Kelly Jay Karges to this point in time. Maybe my check list needs to be revised, shifted a few degrees. Maybe I need to erase the “Whats” and “How much-es,” of that list and replace them with “Whos” and “Whens.”
I think the mental and spiritual healing takes a little longer. How do you measure the holes in your soul? When do you know you have closure? Is being satisfied really all that big of deal? Is the end accounting any more important than the middle? I don’t know. I think it’s a matter of degrees. Did I tell you I got my knee to 103 today?
Grace & Peace,
I can’t put any weight on my left leg until mid-August. But I still get to do physical therapy three days a week. Right now, healing is measured in numbers. It’s a matter of degrees. My physical therapist, Jason, works my left knee that’s recovering from a torn PCL and small tears on several lateral ligaments. At the end of each session we get out the sliding board, and the big clear plastic angle measurer, and start the bending. I started at 91 degrees. By the end of the week I’d progressed to 97. Today, I got to 103. Two degrees can make me very happy right now. One degree is not good enough. Stay the same or decrease and I’m crushed (not a good concept for me right now). The ultimate goal is to bend the left knee to 120 degrees.
Healing is a weird thing. It’s a mental, physical and spiritual thing. In the end I know I want to walk; no limp, no leaning, a regular 46 year old 200 pound male stride. But a return to my gait won’t heal the mental and spiritual disruption.
After looking at post-crash pictures of the truck I was driving, I know I’m lucky to have the possibility of walking again. Seeing the x-rays of the metal plates and spikes in my pelvis and hip reinforced just how damaged my insides were. That cured me of any thoughts of putting weight on that hip before the doctor told me it was O.K..
If chasing 50 hadn’t done it enough for me, this accident has slapped me awake to the realization that I am not going to live forever. There are limits to how much time I have left here. There is no reason to avoid my life’s to-do list any more. My soul is having to digest the idea that I might not get everything done that I want to get done before I’m done here. If that air-bag had not gone off, I’m not sure I’d be satisfied with the life of Kelly Jay Karges to this point in time. Maybe my check list needs to be revised, shifted a few degrees. Maybe I need to erase the “Whats” and “How much-es,” of that list and replace them with “Whos” and “Whens.”
I think the mental and spiritual healing takes a little longer. How do you measure the holes in your soul? When do you know you have closure? Is being satisfied really all that big of deal? Is the end accounting any more important than the middle? I don’t know. I think it’s a matter of degrees. Did I tell you I got my knee to 103 today?
Grace & Peace,
RevKelly Journeys 7-23-06
I had another birthday on Thursday. I crossed over from 46 to 47. This birthday’s a little different. This year the celebration of being alive happened May 11th instead of July 20th. Though I was not conscious at the time, my family and friends tell me they breathed a great sigh of relief that I was still alive after our eight car pile up in the mountains in Tennessee. Most birthday parties are not framed by the alternative. This year being alive to mark another year means that I am not dead.
The joke I’ve told is of waking up in the ICU; a dark room with a T.V. on. I knew the playoffs were on, but there was no way to change the channel. I wondered if I was alive or had died and gone to hell! When I complained to the nurse, she said to just keep pushing that morphine button and everything would be fine. I said, “Yea, but will it change the channel?”
Ever since about 40, my birthdays have been a time to stop and take stock; think about where I am, what I want to do with the rest of my life. Lately, every one after 45 has just been another slippery slope toward the big 5-0.
In my mind, I am still 24. But when I try and get out of bed, my body no longer feels 24. When I pass by the mirror I wonder where all those other years have gone, and who’s that grey headed/bearded guy staring back at me?
Being so thankful to be alive has changed the way I approach each day. Now, I want to soak in the best of the ones I love every day. Sunrise and sunset are reasons to thank God again. I don’t know how long all this’ll last. Hopefully, at least until I’m 48.
Grace & Peace,
The joke I’ve told is of waking up in the ICU; a dark room with a T.V. on. I knew the playoffs were on, but there was no way to change the channel. I wondered if I was alive or had died and gone to hell! When I complained to the nurse, she said to just keep pushing that morphine button and everything would be fine. I said, “Yea, but will it change the channel?”
Ever since about 40, my birthdays have been a time to stop and take stock; think about where I am, what I want to do with the rest of my life. Lately, every one after 45 has just been another slippery slope toward the big 5-0.
In my mind, I am still 24. But when I try and get out of bed, my body no longer feels 24. When I pass by the mirror I wonder where all those other years have gone, and who’s that grey headed/bearded guy staring back at me?
Being so thankful to be alive has changed the way I approach each day. Now, I want to soak in the best of the ones I love every day. Sunrise and sunset are reasons to thank God again. I don’t know how long all this’ll last. Hopefully, at least until I’m 48.
Grace & Peace,
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Journeys 7-2-06
Journeys: 7-2-06
{from the backside of the bulletin of Centenary U.M.C., Beatrice, NE}
Tuesday is Independence Day. I’ve probably spent half of my life asserting my personal independence. My teenage years were about proving my independence from my parents. My early young adult years were about proving my value in competition with my peers. Whomever came out on top could separate themselves from the pack and claim Alpha-dog status. I entered marriage determined not to loose my independence. I chose my vocation partly because of the independence and freedom it offers when it comes to my daily schedule.
Then, we were in that eight car pile-up in the mountains of Tennessee. I spent a week at the University of Tennessee Medical Center before being flown to Beatrice. One day after arriving at the Beatrice Hospital, God spoke through the nurse who leaned down and said, “Honey, you’re gonna’ have to learn how to ask for help when you need it.”
Today’s theme is dependence verses independence. ‘Cause if I’ve learned nothing else from this broken hip and broken pelvis, its that I’ve overlooked the value of dependence for most of my life. Now, I have no choice. I am dependent on others for almost everything (and I mean EVERYTHING).
And, since I can’t help but wonder what God has to do with all of this, I wonder if part of what Jesus was trying to teach us, was about how we need to depend on each other; how, being a part of a community is how we get closer to God; how, depending on each other is a rather Christian thing to do. Maybe independence is not all its cracked up to be. Maybe dependence on God is what is most important. Maybe dependence on each other is what follows. I don’t know. But my near death car crash experience and subsequent recovery time has forced me to reconsider such things.
Grace & Peace,
Thursday, March 09, 2006
Journeys Article 3-12-06
The word “Heal” /’he(a)l/ is a verb that means: 1) to make sound or whole. 2) to restore to health - cure, remedy, to patch up. 3) to restore to original purity or integrity.*
Lent, the forty days before Easter, can be a time to prepare for healing. Physically, spiritually, emotionally, we all need to heal in some way or another, all the time. Preparing for the change that comes in healing can take on many forms. Taking out a part of our lives or adding something new can get our “selves” ready for wholeness. Recognizing the disjointed, un-connected aspects of our daily living can be the first step toward asking God to make our lives whole. Asking God to help us re-connect, may bring us one step closer to wholeness.
Contrary to modern definitions, healing does not necessarily mean, “a return to the way things were.” Since God’s task with us is one of continuously creating and re-creating, we are never restored. We are instead made more sound in a different way.
In asking God to heal us, we are asking God to make connections that we cannot make ourselves; giving God a chance to intertwine all the aspects of our lives. God can help us let go of what is sapping our strength, and hold on to what gives us life. Sometimes, when we’re just not able to let go of that anxiety that sits on our chest, (or in our gut), we can invite God to hold that part of us. Imagine God’s hands grasping it. Sharing that uncontrollable angst reduces it’s power somehow. In our spending time in prayer and silent meditation, God can become the base from which we stand and step forward into the big and little tasks of our lives.
Lent is a chance to prepare for the healing power of change that God showed us that very first Easter. A power from outside ourselves. An unexpected conclusion. God’s power works, so that like that very first resurrection day, things are never the same.
Grace & Peace,
Lent, the forty days before Easter, can be a time to prepare for healing. Physically, spiritually, emotionally, we all need to heal in some way or another, all the time. Preparing for the change that comes in healing can take on many forms. Taking out a part of our lives or adding something new can get our “selves” ready for wholeness. Recognizing the disjointed, un-connected aspects of our daily living can be the first step toward asking God to make our lives whole. Asking God to help us re-connect, may bring us one step closer to wholeness.
Contrary to modern definitions, healing does not necessarily mean, “a return to the way things were.” Since God’s task with us is one of continuously creating and re-creating, we are never restored. We are instead made more sound in a different way.
In asking God to heal us, we are asking God to make connections that we cannot make ourselves; giving God a chance to intertwine all the aspects of our lives. God can help us let go of what is sapping our strength, and hold on to what gives us life. Sometimes, when we’re just not able to let go of that anxiety that sits on our chest, (or in our gut), we can invite God to hold that part of us. Imagine God’s hands grasping it. Sharing that uncontrollable angst reduces it’s power somehow. In our spending time in prayer and silent meditation, God can become the base from which we stand and step forward into the big and little tasks of our lives.
Lent is a chance to prepare for the healing power of change that God showed us that very first Easter. A power from outside ourselves. An unexpected conclusion. God’s power works, so that like that very first resurrection day, things are never the same.
Grace & Peace,
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